


Collection of OC Bones

by SansyFresh



Series: SFW Babble Collections [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Various Tags to be Added, basically all bullshit, oc stuff - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 08:17:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16850452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SansyFresh/pseuds/SansyFresh
Summary: a place to put all my oneshots of my own AU boys





	1. Fluid (TwistedPear)

**Author's Note:**

> I just figured it might be better to post these here than to force them on people in the main oneshot collections lol If you're interested in my boys, here be the shit for them ^^
> 
> Tags: Genderfluid character, Portugal, Twist, NBphobia (ish), Self Shaming

He tried to ignore it, when he felt urges passing certain stores in the mall. He would never ever let himself look, especially when he was with any of the others. When he was alone...sometimes he would let himself take a brief glance into the brightly lit windows, just long enough for the longing he felt to become uncomfortable enough that he looked away. It happened nearly every time he went to the mall, so after a while he kept the visits to a minimum. But then it started happening in any store he went it that sold such things, the longing only growing any time he saw something out of the corner of his eye.

 

His will grew weaker and weaker until, one day when he was on his own, he took a small piece, tearing the tag off and stuffing it under his shirt. The cashier hadn’t noticed, checking out his seven jars of pickles with a faintly exhausted air. He hadn’t looked a single person in the eye on the whole way home, immediately locking the door behind him and dropping off the bags in the kitchen before heading for his bedroom. 

 

Swallowing hard as he shut and locked the door behind him, he closed his eyes, letting his hand go up under his shirt. The feeling of the sheer fabric against the sharp tips of his fingers made his eyes pop back open, his fingers lightly grasping the shirt he’d stolen as he dragged it back out into the open. It was a pale pink, the straps covered in sequins that shone brightly under the light in his bedroom. The fabric felt so soft under his fingertips, to easily torn.

 

With a heavy breath, he gently laid the shirt on his bed, unbuttoning his own, regular shirt and tossing it to the floor before reverently picking the other back up with the very tips of his fingers. Closing his eyes, he slid it over his head, savoring the way the fabric slid fluidly over his bones, the slight static feeling making him shiver. Opening his eyes, he looked down at himself, smoothing out the wrinkles with his hands before looking up to get a better view in the mirror. 

 

The sight was almost overwhelming. He looked so...different. With the black pants he’d worn that day, they matched the shirt so well it looked like a well put together outfit. It made him feel something funny, deep in his soul, like there had been something tight, so tight, and wearing the shirt made it loosen, just a little. The longer he wore it, feeling the fabric shift on his bones, glancing at himself in the mirror every few seconds, the more it loosened.

 

Putting his own shirt back on had almost made him cry, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that, as long as he was home, he could wear it whenever he wanted to, for as long as he wanted to.

 

The one shirt wasn’t enough for very long. 

 

Finding that it was much more convenient and inconspicuous to order the clothing online, Portugal found a whole selection of clothing and brands to try, so many options for him to attempt. First a long skirt that flowed to the floor, swirling around him as he walked. Then, another shirt, this one with a v-neck that showed off his sternum and cervical vertebrae. Another skirt, another shirt, even a pair of stockings, until finally, a dress caught his eye. It was a simple dress, only dropped down mid-femur, the pale yellow cotton light and airy as he spun his waist, letting the skirt swirl around him, watching in the mirror. 

 

He’d soon amassed a small collection of “special” clothing, all hidden away in the top of his closet. Each piece was carefully washed and air dried after each wearing, always fresh for the next time he wore it. He’d made a bit of a schedule for it, after work. Nearly every other day he’d come home, take a shower to get rid of the day’s sweat and grime, then he’d towel dry himself and walk to his bedroom naked. Once inside he’d retrieve the box from the top of the closet, setting it on his bed and taking out an outfit to wear until he retired that night.

 

The day had been a long one, customers yelling and cussing him out more than once, and by the time he got home he wanted nothing more than to flop in bed and sleep it off. When he arrived, however, Twist was leaning against the door, wide grin on his face as Portugal pulled up. It made a knot form in his stomach; whatever Twist wanted, it looked like it was serious enough that he’d made the whole trip over to the entire other side of the city to talk to him.

 

Instead of telling Twist to piss off, which wouldn’t even work, he hopped out of his car and crossed his arms. “Mind tellin’ me what yer doing here, boyo?”

 

Twist’s grin widened. “Thought we could hang out fer a bit, darlin’, haven’ seen ya in a while.”

 

Knowing there was no way Twist was going to take no for an answer, Portugal sighed, giving up and moving up to the door to unlock it. Twist followed him inside, flopping on his lumpy couch with a grin. “Sit down, sweetheart?”

 

Portugal eyed him suspiciously, then did as he asked, leaning back with his arms crossed. Twist looked him over, mouth opened as if to say something, before it closed, his eyes softening. “Long day, sweetheart?”

 

He shrugged, trying not to yawn. “Ev’ry day’s a long one. What’d you need.”

 

Twist continued staring at him, seemingly concerned, before he sighed, grabbing a plastic bag from his inventory and handing it over. “Saw it in the mall tha other day. Thought ya might appreciate it.” Twist said it utterly nonchalant, but Portugal knew what it was before he opened the bad, the name emblazoned on the side giving it away. Untying the knots, he gently lifted the heavy material up and out of the plastic bag, revealing an evening gown made of dark, nearly black iridescent material. It was…

 

“‘s perfect.” His voice was wobbly, but filled with awe at the beautiful nature of the gift. Looking over to Twist, he saw the look of pure satisfaction on the other’s face, and, like the asshole he was, punched him in the shoulder. “But no spendin’ that much money on me again, twisted. Ya hear me?”

 

Twist chuckled, leaning in to leave a kiss on the top of his skull. “No promises, darlin’. Not when it gets a blush like that on yer skull.”

 

His blush intensified before he punched Twist in the shoulder again, ignoring the laughter as he held up the dress once more. It really was perfect. He had such a great boyfriend.


	2. Picnic (HoneyPear)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: HoneyPear, Portugal, fluff

Stretch stumbled through the door, kicking his ratty shoes off to the side before shuffling over to the couch and letting himself flop face down. He bounced a little on the plump cushions, though he quickly sank into the comfort. Four 18 hour work days that week, combined with insomnia kicking in had made life miserable, all his thoughts capable of centering on sleep and eating something, in that order.

 

At least, that’s what the plan was.

 

“Get up asshole.” 

 

Curling into the back of the cushions, he raised his hand, middle finger standing tall and proud. There was a snort behind him, the shift of cloth on bone, before a small, lithe body began to climb on top of his sore, tired bones. Growling as P settled himself, draped over him like some damn blanket, he shifted, kicking his legs to try and get the other to fall off, only for the hold around him to tighten.

 

Resigning himself to his fate, Stretch closed his sockets, letting himself drift. He was just about asleep when a voice spoke up, smaller than it should have been.

 

“Tomorrow’s yer day off, yeah?”

 

Not opening his eyes, Stretch grunted an affirmative. His plans for the day were mostly sleep and food, maybe a little bit of mindless gaming for an hour or two before he got back in bed.

 

P had other plans, it seemed. “Well, I was cleanin’ the damn garage an’ I found a blanket. And I though to myself, this would be right nice for a picnic. So I spent all day today cooking stuff and gettin’ everythin’ ready so we could. Go. On a picnic.” His voice grew quieter the longer he spoke, until it was near a whisper. “We jus’ haven’t spent much time tagether lately, so I thought…” 

 

Stretch stared hard at the couch, catching every bit of loneliness in P’s voice. They really hadn’t done much of anything recently, had they. Turning over, he caught a squeaking P, tucking him close to his chest and under his chin. “Sounds perfect babe.”

 

He could feel the happiness coming off his prickly lover, a smirk growing on his face as P nuzzled his chest.

 

“I know ya been workin’ hard, so...we can do it tomorrow.” P affirmed, even as he began to sound sleepy. Stretch’s smirk softened as he closed his eyes.

 

“It’s a date.”


	3. Edgy, Yet Soft (Copper and Fell Brothers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Angst, Copper, Fell Bros
> 
>  
> 
> This is my Faleverse Papyrus, who is kind of a mix between Papyrus and Fell, but still his own person.

Copper grinned as he cinched the straps over his chest shut, jerking the cords hooked to him a couple times before giving the driver in the truck a double thumbs up. Red, shaking his head even as he turned to put the rumbling truck in gear, waving his hand out the driver’s side window in a signal that he was about to go before slowly, slowly, the pickup started to inch forward. Shifting his feet to better balance on the skateboard his feet were strapped to, Copper smiled brightly even as the truck slowly picked up speed.

 

Putting his hands out to the side, he lifted one to flip on the gopro taped to his helmet before sticking it back out. He slowly picked up more and more speed, weaving a little behind the ever speeding truck before it finally got up to a high enough speed that the wind was whipping through his clothes, pants billowing and shirt trying its best to tear off his bones.

 

Laughing maniacally, Copper carefully reached down, unclipping himself and letting himself sail down the street, Red still going just ahead of him. Suddenly, as discussed, the truck stopped and Copper grinned fiercely, lowering his body before vaulting off the ground, flying up and over the truck in a turning backflip. Using just a tinge of magic to loosen the air time, he landed back on his feet, the board rolling on its own carrying him a little further even as he raised his arms in triumph. 

 

There was a faint clapping as he reach up and turned off the gopro, Copper turning back to find Red grinning and rolling his eyes as he clapped slowly. Laughing, Copper flipped him off before bending over to unstrap his feet. Kicking up the board, he scooped it up and jogged to the side of the truck, pulling the door open with a creak and hopping inside. 

 

Red wordlessly put the thing back in gear, heading back for the house as Copper unclipped the helmut and pulled it from his skull, grinning down as he unhooked the gopro, setting it carefully in his inventory. 

 

“Yer crazy, ya know that right?” Red’s gravely voice finally spoke up, his voice amused. 

 

Copper glanced over at him with a grin, fangs glistening in the lowering light, before staring out the window, his leg jittering up and down. Doing stunts always left him with a high dose of residual energy that had to work its way out of his system naturally. “I know it.” Looking over, he winked. “No crazier than you, fucker.”

 

Red huffed a snort, shaking his head as they turned down a residential road, passing by cookie cutter houses and white picket fences. Copper kept his eyes trained out the window, wondering not for the first time who all would be home when they got there. If Edge would be there, or if he’d still be out working, not at all trying to avoid their new housemate.

 

Drumming his hands on the dash, he started loudly humming the guitar riff of Stairway to Heaven, Red laughing before singing along even though neither of them really knew the words. They were halfway through Bohemian Rhapsody when the roads turned to gravel, the faithful truck finally pulled into the dirt driveway that lead up to the fair sized ranch house. Copper hopped out even before Red had put the thing in park, slamming the door shut and skipping up to the front door. Kicking his shoes off to the side, then pausing and fixing them to be symmetrical to the outside wall of the house, he stepped inside, letting the door shut behind him before taking a deep breath. 

 

Rosemary and chives. Edge was indeed home. Setting his helmet on the side table and hanging his leather jacket on the hook by the door, Copper moved towards the kitchen, carefully peeking inside before shuffling from the carpet to the linoleum. Edge was standing over the stove, vigorously cooking what looked and smelled of stirfry, the oven itself on meaning he was also baking something. 

 

Carefully settling himself into a seat at the table, Copper didn’t say a word even as Edge set his plate in front of him, Red settling in beside him and receiving his own plate piled high with food. Edge sat with his own full plate, the two brothers silently digging into their meals without even looking at each other. 

 

He hated this, really. Hated the vaguely far away look in Edge’s eyes any time he was around him. Hated the tinge of guilt hidden in Red’s eyelights that never really went away. Hated that his existence had caused some kind of rift in their lives but they didn’t even have the decency to tell him. It was like being back Underground all over again.

 

Instead of saying anything, he ate. Put his plate in the sink, silently thanked Edge for the food, and headed to the guest room he’d been given. The video from the gopro was easily edited, the programs up here so much easier to work with than what he’d had back home. Once it was jazzed up to his liking he set it to upload, rubbing at his face as he leaned back in his desk chair, the back tilting dangerously. 

 

Living with the two brothers was like waiting for a time bomb to go off but not actually knowing what it would do when it did. Stress inducing at best. Gripping panic at worst. Shaking the remaining nervous energy out of his bones, he stretched out, pushing his arms as high above his head as they would go, sighing in satisfaction as his vertebrae popped into alignment with a crick. 

 

Something needed to be done, but with his track record, it was doubtful anything good would come of it.

 


End file.
